


Seventeen on the Edge of Sixteen

by Kukki



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1235770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kukki/pseuds/Kukki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where once the blaze would bring about memories of glory, now it only reminds him of a scream he'll never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seventeen on the Edge of Sixteen

This shouldn't be happening. _This shouldn't be happening._

He's done this before. He remembers near the beginning when they ran into a burning building, in costume and everything, to save the occupants and put out the fire before authorities arrived, and he remembers how stupidly happy they were afterward, how they'd gone out for pizza to celebrate one of their first true successes as heroes. He remembers the rush, the thrill at the thought of finally doing something good with the powers he'd originally cursed.

It's something he should be doing and feeling now, even with the lack of his team at his side. He shouldn't be standing there, legs and arms and everything frozen as the world blazes around him. The memories passing through his head aren't of pizza and smiles, hands slapping his shoulder and lips pressing enthusiastically against his when they're alone. Instead, a scream that he could never forget pierces through his skull, muffling the rest of the world around him. He's sixteen again and it's not just the smoke he's smelling, but burning flesh right along with it.

He's no longer Captain America, but Teddy Altman, and he isn't bursting heroically through the building to save the one person who'd been lost in the confusion of the fire. He's rooted to the spot, hands clenched into fists to get a grip on himself. _Keep moving, you have to keep going,_ he tells himself, but it's like his legs are made of stone. They're paralyzed just like before, when that same fire engulfed and swallowed the woman he called his mother.

Everything blurs, and that's all he can see. Her body utterly consumed just like the walls and furniture, and he should be moving, should have moved, he should be finding the missing person just like he should have moved forward and done _something_ to save her.

But he's sixteen again, he's utterly useless, and he can't save anyone.

_“Mom!”_

He's sixteen, frozen in place with fire all around him, and he just heard a scream that wasn't his own. His eyes squeeze shut, his head shakes fiercely, and the world has once again placed him in a building searching for someone that isn't his mother. He takes a step forward, then two, and he's seventeen, he's Captain America, and he can save this one person who's crying for her mother just like he is.

When he's outside with the girl in his arms and the mother rushes over to grab her and hold on for dear life, a part of him that's still sixteen notices that she has blond hair and _aches._ But he's no longer sixteen; he's seventeen and kneeling down with the mother to ask if she's all right, if there's anyone still inside, not as Teddy, not as Hulkling, but as Captain America, someone they know, someone they trust over a stranger. Someone who'd be recognized for the mask, not the person behind it.

But when he's inside his home that still doesn't quite seem like a home and looking in the mirror at the smudges of ash on his face, he finds himself wondering how he's going to get the smell of smoke out of his clothes.

And he realizes then, at seventeen on the edge of sixteen, that he'll never quite be able to.


End file.
